


pink in the night

by diwata



Series: i follow rivers [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Blank Period, Canon Compliant, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22179700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diwata/pseuds/diwata
Summary: “It’s like acquiring a treasured friend and a time bomb all at once,” Sakura vents to Ino.Ino laughs at her. “Treasured friend is a funny name for it,” she says, blowing her bangs out of her face. “The color is nicer,” Ino gives her professional opinion, “and you two are dating. Get over it.”Sasuke and Sakura live segmented lives, but make a home anyway.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Series: i follow rivers [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596583
Comments: 24
Kudos: 164





	pink in the night

**Author's Note:**

> Blank Period Sasuke and Sakura hold a special place in my heart. This is for everyone who lives segmented lives apart from their loved ones and families, may we all find home in each other.

**He who invites***

On the day his best friend rescues the Hyuuga girl, Sasuke jumps through realities to find a village hidden amongst thick tree trunks. He defends the citizens from the shadows; the journey home is long, and tiring, and not without regret. With his cursed eyes, Sasuke can see both everything and nothing. With his long hair and face wrapped away by bandages, he passes his family house without so much as a glance. The spirits are quiet tonight, and the streets are empty. He launches at the falling meteorites with single-minded fervor; his wrappings unravel. Rocks fall upon the tin roofs of houses, the debris no larger than pebbles.

“And what would you have me do?” he hears Sakura ask, voice sweet and willing. For a second, Sasuke thinks he catches Sakura’s silhouette and wishes to set the bandages aflame to see her. His hair falls over his left eye. He knows she is not there.

Sasuke turns away from the silhouette, the voice, the pebbles; Sasuke chooses his brother’s dream, because even love cannot conquer death. He dips his fingers in a nearby river, seeking to relieve himself of dust, debris, and duty. “And what would you have me do?” Sasuke hears Sakura again and wonders. The underbelly of a river snake brushes his ankle.*

* * *

**Blossoming alone**

Sakura collects images of things she wants to share with Sasuke in her letters, though they might seem insignificant to a man who’s traveled to the ends of the earth, but there are simple and common things that Sasuke misses in their segmented lives. Besides, Sakura knows she can’t do much else; what can she offer but what he already has? She can only send letters about her hospital shifts and the small green tomatoes of her father’s garden and the way the Sun sets over Hokage Mountain on a summer evening, coating everything in dusk. Where Sakura addresses each letter _Dear Sasuke-kun_ and signs _Yours sincerely, Sakura_ , Sasuke writes only his message. His letters are infrequent, and she asks herself whether this is all worth it, the guessing around and willing him to come back to her. It is like willing a volcano to not erupt.* _Send your parents my regards_ , Sasuke tells her.

She mentions Sasuke’s greeting to them over dinner and Kizashi laughs. “What a cool guy, huh?” he says, shoveling rice into his mouth. “You think he can come over and help with the garden? I could really use an extra hand tending to the weeds.” Her father is endearingly oblivious. Sakura smiles.

Her mother is less impressed. “Will we,” her mother sets her bowl down soberly, “meet him soon?” She leans forward with a knowing gaze.

“He’s on a mission,” Sakura replies, eyes downcast.

Kizashi slaps the wooden table. Her mother’s bowl bounces, soup spilling over the edge. “Well, when he’s back,” Kizashi says, miming a stand-up weeder, “those dandelions.”

Mebuki glares at the puddle of soup dirtying the table. “My bothersome husband,” she sighs. “Where are you going?” she demands when Sakura stands to excuse herself.

“I have some samples running at the hospital,” she explains hurriedly, and Mebuki tells her to be safe and not work too late. “Tsunade-shishou expects a report tomorrow morning.”

At the hospital, Sakura opens the centrifuge, pleased at how her samples have separated. She aliquots the top magenta layer, White Zetsu cells stained pink. The bottom layer sits unaffected as she prepares her slides, though she marvels at the utter lack of science behind any of these experiments. Sitting in a laboratory in her white coat and microscope, Sakura is not sure where she fits into this life of folklore and gods and reincarnation; of the Sage of Six Paths and alternate dimensions and time travel. 

Sakura glances at the remaining contents of her test tube and understands why they can’t be together: emulsification. Things are thrown together, but they aren’t meant to stay. In a reality where Sasuke contains Amaterasu and Susanoo in his left eye and the multiverse in his right, Sakura is too average, too unlike him; they are destined to slide past each other, over and over. But it comforts Sakura to know there is a science to them, and perhaps there is enough space in Sasuke’s heart for lazy summer afternoons with her parents, pulling dandelions out of her father’s garden barehanded.

 _I’ll ask him about it_ , she decides, _when --_ she refocuses the lens of her microscope -- _when Sasuke-kun comes home_.

* * *

**White plover**

Sakura ventures to the Uchiha district on weekends to clean the house when Sasuke is away. It’s a task that no one has asked of her, but she does diligently and thoroughly. A house that large and beautiful should not be allowed to sit unattended; and besides, the kittens had taken residence underneath the front porch and need to be fed. Sasuke had given her a spare key after many hours of hearing Sakura complain about how long her commute to the hospital was from her parents’ house, suggesting that she stay over when he’s away after night shift. “Sure,” she’d said, but not bothered to use the key for its intended purpose. It would be too intrusive, too personal for her to move in while he was gone on a mission, like one of those tragic samurai wives, waiting for her husband to arrive home from battle.

Sakura bleaches the kitchen tiles; dusts the shelves; scrubs the bathtub; sets a morning glory at the altar; feeds Ren and Nobu on early Saturday mornings and late Sunday afternoons. She’s at the kitchen counter peeling shrimp and depositing the shells into their cat bowls when she hears the front door open. Sakura looks up, first in suspicion, then in shock. The metal bowls clamor to the floor and she curses before kneeling down to clean up the mess she made.

“It’s Sakura, huh?” Sasuke says as he steps inside, not looking even residually startled. It’s as if he were coming back from the fields after a day of training, instead of from months of traveling on an S-ranked mission. “I’m home.” Still too confused to reply, Sakura focuses on gathering the rest of the fallen shells. He walks to her and peers over her shoulder, waiting patiently.

“What?” she asks, looking back up at him. “Oh!” Sakura realizes, “Welcome home.” 

He takes the bowls from her. “These are for the cats,” he states, and then places them outside. Sasuke’s eyes wash over her and she tries her hardest to keep herself from shrinking away. “You can fold your apron and put it on the counter,” he tells her. 

She is, in fact, wearing a cleaning apron. Somehow, she had forgotten. She feels the heat rise to her cheeks as she takes it off and folds it neatly before placing it in her bag. “Ah, I can head out now if you’d like, Sasuke-kun,” she says in an attempt to save what’s left of her dignity, “I know it’s getting late.”

“I’ll walk you,” Sasuke responds almost immediately, and Sakura recalls that she’s never seen him as expressive about doing -- well, really, anything. The travel must have done him well, then. He coughs. “Or,” he says more slowly, as if he’s trying to stop himself before the rest of his sentence comes out, “or, you can stay.” Now, Sasuke looks sheepish. He won’t look her in the eye. “I’m making tea.” Sakura wonders what bizarre timeline she’s stumbled into, where Sasuke comes home from a mission to her and offers to make her tea, but says nothing and sits at the counter across from him.

Sasuke stops her as she reaches for her cup. “Not yet,” he says, and she blinks. “It’s too hot for you. Wait a little.” The corners of his mouth perk up in a semblance of a small smile. Regardless of how he feels towards her, Sakura enjoys sitting in his kitchen drinking tea with him. If Sasuke could never reciprocate, they would at least always have this: jasmine tea on a Sunday evening, the cats meowing on his front porch at a small white-chested bird*, and her welcoming him home after more than a year of being away.

* * *

**Hydrangea dreams**

Sasuke stays a while, but Sakura doesn’t stop visiting the Uchiha estate every weekend. He refuses to let her clean, but she brings her cleaning supplies and apron with her anyway, thinking she can wear him down. “That only works once,” he tells her plainly, and smirks at the blank look he gets in return. He ponders how someone could be so intelligent, yet so painfully clueless. Sasuke finds he runs into Sakura often; at the market; on her way to the hospital when he’s coming home from the training fields with Naruto; when he passes by the Yamanaka flower shop on his way to see Kakashi. She asks him to come over and help with her father’s garden; he asks her to choose a flower arrangement for the family altar. Like this, they fall into step beside one another with ease.

“It’s like acquiring a treasured friend and a time bomb all at once,” Sakura vents to Ino as she considers the aesthetics of white lilies against the mythology of hydrangea. She’s happy that Sasuke is back, but she constantly worries about when he will leave.

Ino laughs at her. “Treasured friend is a funny name for it,” she says, blowing her bangs out of her face. “Sai even said something about it, and you know how he is, Forehead.” She gestures towards the hydrangea. “The color is nicer,” Ino gives her professional opinion, “and you two are dating. Get over it.”

“Excuse me?” Having gotten the flowers and validation she needed, she leaves the shop with her tongue sticking out and an insult to go along with it. The pink hydrangeas are slightly deeper than the color of her hair and blend prettily with the neighboring purple ones. Ino was right, after all; the color is nicer.

“Not blue*?” Sasuke asks when she delivers the arrangement, turning his back to scoop rice into both of their bowls.

“Should I apologize to Sasuke-kun?” she jibes, leaning over to see what he takes out of the fridge next. “But you hate umeboshi,” Sakura says.

He looks at her, half-annoyed. “Ah, but you,” Sasuke says, tapping her forehead, “don’t.” She raises her hand to return the gesture, but doesn’t pull away immediately. Her fingertips skim the tall curve of his nose, the elegant curve of his brow. He freezes. “What are you doing?”

“Studying,” she says, hoping he doesn’t hear the tremor in her voice, “memorizing. So that when you leave again -- I can remember Sasuke-kun a little more clearly.” 

Sasuke leans into her touch. “Okay,” he submits, “okay.” He closes his eyes, and Sakura pays close attention to how his eyelashes flutter.

* * *

**Matchmaker**

Before Sasuke embarks on the next leg of his journey, Sakura is called away. It’s a simple mission to Nami, where they need support in setting up a permanent medical clinic. It should take no more than a week, and she should set out before nightfall. She accepts her mission unblinkingly, but Kakashi stops her on her way out of his office.

“By the way,” he adds dryly, “do you want an escort?”

“I appreciate your concern, Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura replies, “but I don’t believe that will be necessary.”

“Naruto said you might need an escort,” Kakashi insists. He gives her a pointed look.

“Are you trying to _insult_ me?” She storms out before he can push again, offended at her former teacher’s apparent lack of belief in her ability. Sakura packs quickly and is surprised to see Sasuke at the village gates.

Sasuke rubs the back of his neck and looks away. “The idiot thinks he’s being subtle, playing matchmaker and all,” he mutters. His travel bag is slung over his shoulder.

* * *

**Ninigi and Sakuya***

“It’s nice to stand on the shore like this, right?” Sakura asks. She wiggles her toes in the sand and sighs in contentment. Her sandals in one hand and medical pack in the other, she walks Sasuke to the Great Naruto Bridge. The name makes both them scoff, then roll their eyes in disbelief. “Well,” she says, looking at Sasuke, “I’ll see you later?” She knows she sounds hopeful, but gone are the days of her silent repression. Sakura’s learned that when it comes to Sasuke, at least, it is best to love candidly. She grins at him.

“Or,” Sasuke begins, slowly, and she feels her heart might beat out of her chest, “or, come with me.”

Sakura drops her sandals and reaches for his hand. “Did I make you -- it’s okay, you don’t have to -- did I wear you down?” She hangs her head. “It’s like what you said that one day, isn’t it?”

Sasuke brushes her hair out of her face. “Am I the type that can be made to do anything?” he reminds her, and she realizes how ridiculous she must sound. “Sakura,” he tries again, “I don’t have rice paper, or konbu, or cuttlefish.” He furrows his brow. “All I have is…” Sasuke looks down. He opens and closes his mouth, but no words come out.

“This is enough,” she says shyly, traces the fan* on the back of his shirt. His tense shoulders relax marginally, a difference so slight that many wouldn’t catch it -- but Sakura does, she thinks, because she’s Sakura, and he’s Sasuke-kun. 

“It’s all I have,” Sasuke tells her, “I hope it’s enough.” She recognizes the intensity of his gaze on her face.

“Though I may not be worthy,” Sakura accepts, “please allow me to go with you*.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Quite a bit of research went into this fic drop, so here are some footnotes if any of you are interested (in order of the asterisks in the story):  
> (1) This section is based on the myth of Izanami and Izanagi, which bears a lot of similarities to the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Here, Sasuke is Izanagi, lit. "he who invites."  
> (2) I imagined the river/s in this story to be the Sanzu River. There are three ways of crossing: a bridge, a ford, or a stretch of deep, snake-infested waters. They are determined by the offenses committed by somebody throughout the course of their life. The snake here is an allusion to that.  
> (3) An allusion to Konohanasakuya-hime, the blossom princess.  
> (4) A reference to Yamato Takeru, a legendary Japanese prince that murdered his brother and was exiled from the land. He wielded the Kusanagi. According to myth, at the time of his death, he turned into a bird and vanished.  
> (5) A tale from Japan talks about an emperor that sent blue hydrangeas to a woman to apologize after neglecting her.  
> (6) Ninigi and Sakuya (same princess from the third footnote) fell in love on the seashore and married. Ninigi is the grandson of Amaterasu and gifted Kusanagi to the emperor.  
> (7) Japanese engagement ceremonies often involve the exchange of traditional gifts wrapped in rice paper. Sasuke lists a few, but one of the gifts is a fan -- which is why Sakura touches the fan on the back of Sasuke's shirt.  
> (8) This is an old way of accepting a Japanese marriage proposal and also Komugi's original scripted line to Meruem in HXH before they die.


End file.
